


Tempestade

by InsomniaNoir



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hancio, Hanzio, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Storms, Thunderstorms, rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 04:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsomniaNoir/pseuds/InsomniaNoir
Summary: Prompt: “I’m going to keep you safe.”“You wanted to protect everyone you surrounded yourself with, to ensure they lived another day.” He answers his own question The medic is a humanitarian through and through and would sooner give his last even when he was in need. The man truly was an angel, moments like these had found ex-yakuza wondering to himself how in the hell did he wind up with someone like this?“Doesn’t help that months after that hurricane, the Omnic Crisis came,” rubbing his eyes as means to bate sleep or the incoming tears away.





	Tempestade

**Author's Note:**

> I am Square Enix and this is an HD Remaster 4K Remix of a prompt I wrote on my tumblr last year, just tszujed up a bit.

 

A storm is passing by the Spanish Coast at Gibraltar, a tumultuous one indeed. Lightning cracks, thunder blares loudly outside of the base; waves crashing harshly. If they were on one of those old-fashioned pirate ships, there’s a good chance that everyone would be shipwrecked. The likelihood of any survivors were slim.

Storms however did not bother Hanzo; quite the contrary, it soothes and delivers peace to his mind. The rain belting down on the windows relaxing and allows for him to fall asleep easily. Well, if the shaking lump beside him could sleep.

“I will never understand your fear of storms, unless you choose to share them with me,” Peering down from his tablet, he was reading a novel in his native language to try to lull himself to sleep. Sighing, he pulls back the covers to reveal a mass of dreads and a shirtless freedom fighter that just so happened to be a world-renowned DJ.

“Lúcio, it is going on one in the morning.” The archer felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips, out of the sincerity that the display before him was in a word, endearing.

Groaning, the international musician sits upright on the queen size bed and leans his cheek on Hanzo’s tattooed arm. He and Hanzo have come _long_ way; from Lúcio being against the type of background Hanzo originally came from and Hanzo originally considering Lúcio’s plight in regard to the world as unrealistic and unattainable. Now after months of slowly getting over their initial dislike and differences for one another, they found that each other’s backgrounds and their current cause while being in Overwatch wasn’t exactly so changed from one another’s. And somehow, they found each other an unlikely duo that enjoy quality time with each other and made for an interesting pair in team compositions. Wherever audio-medic was in danger, the archer was nearby to take out the threat antagonizing him.

Waving his hand, he figures now’s a good of time as any. “Ok ok, I’ll tell you.” As Lúcio takes a deep breath to begin sharing something of intimate importance to Hanzo, a raucous thunder booms outside. Thus, causing him to jump and wrap his hands tightly around Hanzo’s bicep. The action elicits the curious Japanese man to chuckle to himself, he finds it adorable. Lúcio took it upon himself to bite the arm his cheeks were smooshed against.

“How would you like it if I laughed at one of your fears, _tough guy_?” He mutters as the older man could hear the pouting rather than witnessing it.

“Mine do not revolve around the change of the seasons,” While his arm was captive in Lúcio’s grasp, he manages to stroke the younger man’s thigh affectionately, comforting the anxious man.

“I do apologize for finding your predicament . . . _amusing_.” Hanzo attempts to hide a chortle but fails and is leveled with an _almost_ impressive glare.

“I am expressing interest in understanding why this troubles you so.” With that finality, he set aside the tablet on his nightstand and gazes down with warm chestnut eyes at the troubled DJ. To be more consoling, he brought a warm, calloused hand to rub along the spine of the shorter man’s back, slow and comforting.

A shaky sigh escaped the Afro-Brazilian man’s lips, “When I was younger, storms would not always be a frequent thing in Rio de Janeiro, but it brought disaster for those that lived in the _favelas_. Shacks were unstable, ‘roofing’” He emphasizes with air quotes. “made it difficult to try to stay warm and dry. I often used to have dreams that if I fell asleep for even the _tiniest_ of minutes, I’d wake up to find that everyone around me would drown.” Hanzo regarded him with a fragile look, pressing him closer, envisioning the imagery in his own mind.

“Yeah that’s a little extreme, but Rio is always known for their hurricane seasons. One of my worst fears was that a heavy rainstorm would slowly turn into a hurricane over the course of the day,” The somber look only darkened. “Well, sure as shit, while everyone was trying to evacuate, the hurricane was coming and it waited for nobody,” closing his eyes, he remembers running to make sure everyone was safe and heading towards the evac location. He wanted to save the elderly, the brothers and sisters, even the infants and children that were unable to walk—hell even the pets too. Sensing that the story was making the young man emotional, Hanzo leans down to press his lips to Lúcio’s forehead.

“To get to the point, a lot of people that I thought I could have saved, drowned. I felt like I let myself down.” This newfound frailty within Lúcio gave insight to how close the two men were to each other. The DJ, always smiles and positive attitude, had his own nightmares, fears, and thoughts of regret. That day proving to be one of them. It explained why the Brazilian man made an effort to always give back to his fans, to his community and to those less fortunate than he currently was now. Hanzo was born into wealth, Lúcio built himself from the ground up. The humility the young man exudes made Hanzo treasure him that much more. He truly is a precious frog.

“You know that was no fault of your own,” Hanzo offers, furrowing his brows. "why would you shelter such a heavy burden?” As those words left his lips, he felt ignorant before realizing, “You wanted to protect everyone you surrounded yourself with, to ensure they lived another day.” He answers his own question. The medic is a humanitarian through and through and would sooner give his last even when he was in need. The man truly was an angel, moments like these had found ex-yakuza wondering to himself how in the hell did he wind up with someone like this?

“Doesn’t help that months after that hurricane, the Omnic Crisis came,” rubbing his eyes as means to bate sleep or the incoming tears away. Now, he chose to tilt his head up towards Hanzo for the first time in almost half an hour. Taking him in, Lúcio really had the thought _God he’s so fine_ pop into his head. More so now that he happily participated in the contribution of Hanzo’s little “makeover”. It’s been some time, but the undercut was in need of another shave and the top of his hair was long now, falling down to almost his forearm. The bridge piercing had already healed, so he took it out before bed. However, the nipple and tongue piercings were a secret only Lúcio and he needed to know, especially now he wears a new garment into combat to conceal them. He wore his traditional _kyudo_ once after getting them done, McCree wouldn’t leave him alone for a week. That conversation ended as quickly as it came:

_“So uh, Hanzo, you know you’re definitely in violation of dress code right?” McCree made a point by attempting to reach out to flip the stud but Hanzo’s trained assassin reflexes caught his wrist._

_“If you so much as think of touching this, I will show you something more painful than this piercing.” He threatened._

_Laughing instead of finding the threat remotely dangerous, Jesse quipped back, “I think your brother would be more scarred by the fact you’re flashing your nip-bling at all of us.”_

_The fact McCree had to use the word **nip-bling** not only made Hanzo cringe but wishing he could change into something else._

Lúcio’s eyes were bleary and trying to focus on the man whose room he all but barged into. “So you can see why in a way, I suffer from a bit of PTSD over storms, right?” Reaching up, he ran his fingers through the not-so fuzzy fuzz of the archer’s undercut.

“When you have a story such as that one, I seem much more insensitive with how I reacted towards you earlier.” Pressing another kiss, but towards the corner of his lips, causing Lúcio to loosen up some of the tension he was feeling from earlier. This was a nonverbal way the usually stoic man chose to apologize.

“I apologize, Lúcio,” He vocalizes properly, before finishing with a protective and definitive tone, “I will keep you safe.” There was no arguing with that sentence.

The thunderstorm was lightening up, but the rain was still hard against the window. During the transitional period, the storm manages to calm down and the rain merely a rhythmic sound. Hanzo dims the bedroom lighting and Lúcio presses his ear against the broad chest of the archer. Listening to his heartbeat, he found it was closely in tandem with the rain. Taking his mind off the weather, he found himself trying to configure a new rhythm in his head. He couldn’t wait to wake up and compose it in the morning.

“Babe?”

A rumble of a grunt was heard beneath him, he knew that the archer was slowly going to sleep if his heart rate was any indication.

“Thanks.” Pulling himself closer, the audio medic reached over and turned the light off completely. He bid Hanzo good night with a kiss on his forehead and laid his head on a pectoral of his. As long as he had the archer, he could combat this trauma of storms with him by his side. One storm at a time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bon appetit.


End file.
